


Kisses for the Knight

by Marksfabulousbutt



Category: Princess Tutu
Genre: Caretaking, Comfort, F/M, Forehead Kisses, Gentle Kissing, Healing, Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:54:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22569694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marksfabulousbutt/pseuds/Marksfabulousbutt
Summary: Based on Episode 12, beginning scene
Relationships: Ahiru | Duck/Fakir (Princess Tutu)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39





	Kisses for the Knight

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my god, I feel so embarrassed for making this tbh. Not because I like Duck/Fakir its because of the anime. I feel like its a childish anime and people would laugh at me, but you know what, I MISSED watching it like 10 years ago, and it was like MUSIC to my ears to see it on Hulu.
> 
> I usually write about dark and gritty fandoms, (my content not so gritty) and i think this is the first one that has more of a childish tone (more so than rottmnt, though i can and will fight you on it being for children... even though i watched it as a kid...) Anyways, I hope you enjoy :)

Princess Tutu stumbled, feet catching ungracefully on the concrete, a support for an in-even-worse-condition Fakir. He desperately tried to refuse her help, but under no circumstances would she let him go.

Luckily, nobody was there to witness Fakir's awkward tripping with a bright, swan looking creature supporting him. They entered his shared room with Mytho, and she set him in his bed.

As soon as his head had hit the pillow, Fakir fell asleep, deep in slumber, which was great for Princess Tutu, which meant he wouldn't complain or mutter about the way she dressed his wounds.

She rolled up his sleeves, hoping to assess the damage from there, but found that the wounds all went up his shoulders and back, the crows having attacked worst at his forearms but not unwilling to attack anywhere else. Which, in short, meant she had to remove his shirt.

Princess Tutu swallowed, hesitant hands sliding underneath his shirt, slightly touching his warm abdomin. She had always wanted to touch his skin, after viewing his scar the day she lost her pendant. She breathed in sharply, when Fakir shifted, his eyebrows furrowing. He looked angry, and she saddened.

But she needed to get to his back and arms, no telling what damage that has been done.

Princess Tutu finally stripped him of his shirt, for a moment she watched him breathe, eyes fallowing the birthmark trailing from his left shoulder to his right waist.

In a moment of thoughtless passion, she placed a knee on the bed, intent on flipping Fakir over to assess his back, but instead, Princess Tutu leaned down, pressing her soft lips to the off coloured birthmark that decorated his chest.

She froze once she realized what she did, her flush running from her cheeks to her ears. She nearly quacked her self into a bird again, hand over her mouth in pure embarassment and moving back.

She glanced at his face, and for a moment, she realized that, Fakir had looked... peaceful. Was her prescence, keeping whatever nightmare he would be having at bay?

Did her kiss heal the physical pain? A shiver went up her spine, and she shook her head, retreating to the bathoom to gather antiseptic and banadages. When she came back, Fakir had already sweated a puddle into the sheet, and she furrowed her brow.

He couldn't have had a fever already? Did infection set in already? Had Kraehe done something to the ravens that attacked Fakir? Was he going to be okay?

Princess Tutu breathed heavily, fear in her body as she touched a hand to his forehead. He'd probably need a shower, but for now she'd get his wounds in order. She noticed quickly that he had stop struggling. Perhaps her prescence did more for Fakir than she thought it did.

Her hands felt cold against his warm chest, pushing and pulling him onto his back, she looked at the bloodied back, probably reopened from his fight with the sheets.

He had a long slash along his birthmark, and she couldn't help but wonder if Kraehe did that on purpose, knowing he'd struggle with being the knight he didn't want to be.

She took a wet wash cloth from a water bowl, wiping over his back, clearing away blood and dirt, and anything that could possibly cause infection. She dried it with a separate cloth, and dressed more important wounds first, like the birthmark one. But once she stopped banadaging it, satisfied with the result she pressed a kiss to it.

Like a mother kissing a wound, sure that it would make it hurt less. Princess Tutu felt like a mother now, tending to a bruised child who had fallen from a tree.

With his back done, she moved to his shoulders, pressing a kiss to each shoulder blade before tugging him back to a supine position, and wiped down his arms, extra careful with bandaging and cleaning.

With a press to his wrist and the crease of his elbows on both arm, she helped him into his slightly tattered shirt, and into Mytho's bed, placing the covers over his body.

Princess Tutu removed the sheets to his bed, placing them in the laundry hamper, and placing new sheets on his bed, and then replacing the blankets. She felt it was wrong to just let him come back to that after they saved Mytho.

When she finally looked back to Fakir, she realized he still had a pained face, and in a last attempt at smoothing out his furrowed brow, she pressed a lasting kiss on the creases, and like magic, his face smoothed out, and his dreams would be pleasant nonsense.

Princess Tutu all but collasped onto Fakir's bed, her head in her arms, hiding from the world for a restful moment. She hadn't meant to kiss Fakir so much, but... he needed them. He needed her presence just as she needs his.

Fakir had come to, hours later when the day had long broke the sky, he lay there for a moment, his mind thinking of the vague nightmare/dream that he had.

Every few moments there was a burst of light and warmth, that made him relax even more than he was without every second of the dream he was watching himself get torn apart by the Raven.

But then like a savior a white swan emerged from the darkness, and healed his wounds for him to continue fighting, and for the last moment she disappeared and light filled the dream and he couldn't remember much of anything else.

And then he sat up, wondering where he was and who bandaged and "What kind of idiot-"

"Oh, You're awake." Princess Tutu smiled, happy that her ally had been okay.

Fakir breifly wondered if Princess Tutu was the swan he dreamt of.


End file.
